


Softly, Softly Come To Me

by Jellyfax



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Drabble, M/M, One Shot, POV Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfax/pseuds/Jellyfax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To say that it was rare for Steve to get ill was the biggest understatement in … well, about seventy years. It took a fairly hefty dose pneumonia from his most recent trip to Russia to keep him in bed. Nat was hovering by the door in silent concern. It was unnerving for everyone in the tower to see the usually infallible Captain America curled up in a fetal ball, sweating and shaking like an addict gone cold turkey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softly, Softly Come To Me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little piece for a friend's birthday back when Winter Soldier had just come out. I discovered it again by chance, and decided to post it. Happy Birthday for a few years ago Beka!

To say that it was rare for Steve to get ill was the biggest understatement in … well, about seventy years. It took a fairly hefty dose pneumonia from his most recent trip to Russia to keep him in bed. Nat was hovering by the door in silent concern. It was unnerving for everyone in the tower to see the usually infallible Captain America curled up in a fetal ball, sweating and shaking like an addict gone cold turkey.

“Wish there was something we could do.” Came a voice from behind her.

She turned around to see Sam, dressed in soft sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, making his way towards her.

“Yeah. Stark’s got someone working on it, and there’re nothing much we can do until then.”

“Kinda feel helpless though.” Sam said, leaning against the doorframe with a sigh. “Have you checked his drip?”

Natasha nodded, turning back to look at Steve. He was right, she did feel helpless. Steve was always the strong one, the shield in more ways than one, now she saw a little bit more of the Steve Rogers, skinny and sickly, that he’d been before all of this. How he survived as long as he did was a wonder. Probably out of sheer stubborn will, knowing him.

 

* * *

 

There had been little change over the following days. Stark had got something brewing, but for now Steve just had to battle through it on his own. He was still barely able to stay conscious long enough to eat and drink, so the drip was still in his arm, and when he did come round he was delirious.

She, Sam, and Clint took it in turns to check on him, to make sure that his drip was functioning correctly, to see if he’d regained consciousness, and to make sure he hadn’t hurt himself in any way. You could never be too careful with serum-enhanced super soldiers.

When it was her next shift she opened the door tentatively. Steve was sleeping fitfully, his skin clammy with sweat, and his brow knotted with pain. Nat checked all the medical equipment, and once satisfied turned to make her way out of the room. She paused. Something was there that shouldn’t have been.

There was a cloth, still damp, on the table by Steve’s bedside. She frowned, picking it up and turning it over in her hands. It was still a little warm. She glanced around the room suspiciously. She hadn’t passed anyone in the corridor, and it hadn’t been Clint or Sam’s shift for almost an hour. Steve shifted a little, his strained expression softer than it had been before. He muttered something under his breath before falling silent again, the room filled only with the sound of his laboured breathing.

Something wasn’t right.

 

* * *

 

Clint was sat on the counter top when Nat came in. It was gone one in the morning, but he was happily digging into a large bowl of chocolate cereal.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He shrugged, swallowing a mouthful. “Never been good at that sleeping lark.”

Smirking, Natasha leant on the table opposite him. “That’s not what I remember.”

Clint snorted and put the bowl down. “It’s just too quiet round here with Thor AWOL and Steve bedridden. It’s just a bit … wrong. I feel on edge.”

“I know what you mean. Though it’s nice to have some company at this time.”

He didn’t say anything out loud, but his hands formed the words, **_Gets lonely for you, huh?_**

She sighed. “It’s not that bad, I ju-” She stopped suddenly. She could have sworn she heard something. Clint gave her a questioning look. She hushed him with her hand. There it was again.

**_Nat?_ **

**_I can hear something. I think it’s coming from Steve’s room._ **

Clint frowned and hopped off the counter, picking up his bow and quiver from behind the microwave as he did. Nat rolled her eyes, of course he had his bow on hand. Not that she was complaining now.

They made their way down the corridor as quietly as they could. The sound was getting louder, it was lilting, not quite talking. It was … singing? There was [music](https://youtu.be/9vzdtE5k4BI), soft and slow, drifting through the door that was hanging ajar. Crooning jazz trumpets, and a smooth woman’s voice.

_I don't want to walk without you, Baby._

Natasha glanced at Clint, who reached for his quiver and nodded towards the door.

_Walk without my arm about you, Baby._

She pushed the door open a little more and stepped inside.

_I thought the day you left me behind._

Behind her Clint lowered his bow. She could feel a faint draft coming from the bathroom. The door was ajar and there was a faint sliver of light streaking its way across the floor. She signed for them to go on three. She counted down and threw the door open.

Light was streaming in the open window, rippling as the blinds flapped in the breeze. The room was empty.

_Oh, Baby, please come back or you'll break my heart for me_

Clint let her know that he was going to look around the room some more. She nodded and closed the bathroom door behind her.

_'Cause I don't want to walk without you_

 “Tasha?”

Nat looked down. Steve had propped himself up, and was rubbing the sleep from his eyes, bleary with confusion.

“Hey Steve, we didn’t mean to wake you.”

His brow furrowed as he looked her and Clint up and down. He looked around the room and deflated a little. “I thought … It’s our song.”

She cocked her head to one side, but he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said weakly, tucking the covers back under his chin and closing his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

 

* * *

 

After the incident with the music Nat was feeling even more on edge. Steve must have put the music on without knowing it. He was getting better, albeit slowly. He could drink on his own now, and even eat semi-solids, but he was still a little blurry, and was too weak to get out of bed. Tony had started him on some drugs that he said should help, but only time would tell.

When she went in to check on him next he was fast asleep. He was breathing more easily now, but there was still a distinct rattle in his chest. The covers were rumpled, and not quite covering him, so she draped them over him delicately. Steve’s arm was lolled out of the bed, his palm up and open as though he’d been holding someone’s hand. On the table next to him was an untouched bowl of soup. The liquid was light in colour, and filled to the brim with cabbage, carrots, an assortment of other vegetables, and dark chunks of meat. She smiled down at the sleeping man, and picked up the soup, taking it out and closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.

Sam had a brightly coloured apron wrapped around his waist, and was stirring a pot of what looked like bolognese. It smelled good. He smiled at her warmly as she came in.

“Hey Nat, how’s the patient?”

“Sleeping, but he seems to be getting better.” She put the bowl down on the counter. “Thanks for taking this in earlier, he wasn’t well enough to eat it, but it was a nice gesture.”

Sam put the spoon down and looked at the soup curiously. “I didn’t make any soup.”

“Oh…” She frowned. Perhaps Bruce came up.

Picking the soup up, Sam sniffed it tentatively. “Corned beef… that’s kind of odd. Maybe it’s what his mom used to make him.”

“Maybe, although his mom didn’t used to look after him, it was usually B-” She paused. No. There was no way he’d risk it, let alone manage to get in undetected.

Sam’s face fell. “You don’t think…”

“JARVIS?”

The nearest port lit up and a voice echoed into the room. “At your service.”

“Could you run surveillance on Captain Roger’s room for the next week.”

“Of course.” He replied.

Sam shot her a concerned look, mirrored in her own. She wasn’t sure what this meant, but it was unlikely to be anything good.

 

* * *

 

“Ms. Romanov.”

The voice edged its way into Natasha’s head, still clouded with sleep. She pulled the covers over her head drowsily.

“Ms. Romanov.”

It was clearer now. Her eyes snapped open. The light were on in her room, low, but growing brighter.

“JARVIS?”

“There appears to be someone in Captain Roger’s room. It would appear to be a male, and he entered through the bathroom window.”

She stilled. “Thanks JARVIS, I’m on it.”

Pulling on some trousers and boots, she snuck out of her room.

The hallway leading up to Steve’s room was dim, the lights muted so as not to disturb him. She was glad of the shadows as she passed from one to the other. Her hand twitched towards the knife in her boot. If this guy was an assassin she would have to surprise him to keep the upper hand. Running through multiple plans in her head she pushed the door open as quietly as she could, and looked in. Nothing seemed to be amiss at first glance, until she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye.

There was a figure perched on the edge of the bed, dark, shaggy hair falling over his face. His posture was relaxed, no tension on his shoulders, definitely not the stance of an assassin. As her eyes grew accustomed to the twilight she saw a little bit more. It suddenly felt as though she were intruding on something very intimate. The figure had his fingers intertwined with Steve’s, just resting on the top of the covers. His left hand glinted silver as the man brushed an errant lock of hair from Steve’s eyes. It was such a gentle gesture Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Steve’s thumb was circling the back of the man’s hand, and they were speaking in hushed voices, but she didn’t even try to hear what they were saying. Their words were for each other’s ears only. She saw the faint curve of a contented smile on Steve’s face in the moonlight, and closed the door silently.

“Hey JARVIS.” She said as she returned to the kitchen.

“Yes Ms. Romanov?”

She smiled softly to herself. “You can turn off that surveillance in Steve’s room now.”

“Of course.”


End file.
